


The Rise of Evelyn Sharp

by writewithurheart



Series: The Evelyn Sharp Chronicles [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Evelyn Redemption Arc, Found Family, Gen, arrow speculation, emotional epiphanies, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewithurheart/pseuds/writewithurheart
Summary: Sequel to "The Daughter of Isabel Rochev"Lian Yu explodes, but not everyone dies. In fact, there are more survivors than not, but Evelyn really couldn't care less because she's been stuck in this stupid bungalow with a former mercenary who believes she can be rehabilitated. Well, maybe she doesn't want to be rehabilitated. Maybe she is just fine hating the world and hating the man who killed her mother. MAYBE she just wants to punch someone.Or maybe she's just a lost girl searching for home.





	1. Somewhere Not So Far from Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/gifts).



> Hello, lovely readers! Welcome proud members of the Evelyn Sharp Fan Club! I hope you like this (not so) little story I've concocted spinning off a (not so) crazy fan theory. It was supposed to be a long one shot but it's reached 22 pages and I wanted to post before the premier wiped all the ideas from my brain. So I will be posting in sections over the next couple days to give me time to wrap up the story and keep it going. I am really REALLY excited to see what you think of this! Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This fic is being gifted to AlexiaBlackbriar13 for letting bounce ideas off her and for taking a look at the first scene. I hope you like where this goes and that it manages to capture the characters well!

It’s supposed to be a metaphor, according to Slade. 

She’s supposed to rise from the ashes of Lian Yu as some  _ other _ person, a different girl than she was.  _ Like a fucking phoenix _ . But Evelyn’s not having it. She’s not some mythical, majestic creature that flies around and reincarnates itself. Sure, she’s been forged in flame, had to go through years of strenuous training, but that doesn’t make her a magic bird. 

And she sure as hell doesn’t appreciate Slade Wilson’s “advice” on the matter. 

She glares up at the ceiling of her room and the lazily spinning fan above her. It’s stupid is what it is. Slade got rid of the crazy juice in his system, spent three years locked in a cell reinventing himself, and now he thinks he can go all zen master on her. He’s going on about how she shouldn’t kill her only remaining family and all that - which she understands: he’s looking for his son. She gets that. What she doesn’t understand is where he gets away with thinking that Oliver Queen and William can ever be her family. 

All they share is blood. 

“Dinner’s ready, kid.” 

Evelyn glares at the closed door, as if she could see Slade through it. “I’m not hungry.”

A low sigh. “Suit yourself. You’ll have to come out eventually.” 

He might have rescued her from Adrian’s abysmal plan to destroy Lian Yu, protected her with his own body, but everything he’s done since then has grated on her nerves. He doesn’t want to fight. He refuses to indulge in anything slightly less than legal. Heck, they used to plan heists to keep her brain sharp and he won’t even do that. He’s become a suburban Mister Mom. He cooks, tells her to stay out of trouble, and makes her go to school. 

It’s infuriating. To the point that Evelyn wants to claw her eyes out. She’s spoiling for a fight, for a bow in her hand, a stick to swing at an enemy. Heck, she’d even settle for a plain-old patrol. But Slade keeps insisting that she can’t fight angry, that she needs to control her emotions, to be reborn as a serene and righteous fighter. 

He wants to “do right” by her, to make her into the woman she could be. He thinks she needs to let go of her anger because that’s what drove him crazy. If anything’s going to drive Evelyn crazy, it will be the lack of doing things. 

She explained that to Slade and he had the audacity to laugh and say: “Just like your brother.” 

Which led to this moment right here, where she sits in her room, pouting. 

She can’t be what Slade wants her to be - a hero - because it’s not what her mother would want. Her mother would want vengeance. So how do you choose between a dead mother and a newly pacifist father figure? 

Evelyn hasn’t figured that out yet, but one thing’s for sure: She’s not a fucking phoenix. 

_ Grrrrrrrrrr. _

She winces at the loud growl of her stomach. She flops over onto her stomach as if to smother the noise in the bed. She’s been basically on her own since her mother died. It’s been less than a week and Slade’s helicopter parent routine is already getting old, but she can smell his roasted potatoes through the door. They’re calling to her. 

_ This isn’t him winning _ . The words sound hollow to her own mind as she yanks open the bedroom door and stalks down the short hall to the common area. It’s a combination of kitchen, dining room, and living space in their small bungalow. Slade looks up from his phone and nods at her, the faint shadow of a smile in the twist of his lips. 

Evelyn throws herself into the chair opposite his and stabs her fork into the roasted potatoes waiting on her plate. Damn him for knowing her so well. “I didn’t realize inmates got fed actual food.”

He sighs. “You’re not a prisoner, Evie.” 

“You’ll have to work on your lies, old man. You’re keeping me locked up here like a princess in a tower and giving nightly check ins to the man who murdered my mother.” She nearly spits at the phone that lays guiltily on the tabletop. “Since when did you become his lackey?”

“He doesn’t know you’re here.” Slade tosses her phone. Her instinctive catch sends her fork and it’s helping of potatoes back to her plate instead of into her mouth. “Check for yourself.” 

Suspicious, she swipes through the phone. It’s been upgraded, almost military without being a satellite phone. She can see Oliver’s contact. It goes back to five days ago with a text to Oliver confirming Slade’s alive. The rest are evasive answers as to a location, consolation for the loss of Samantha Clayton, advice for dealing with William. Her name is only mentioned once, among Oliver’s list of presumed dead, her body not found. Slade hadn’t bothered to correct his assumption. 

“You didn’t tell him I was alive. Why?” 

“Because we need to talk first.” 

Evie snorts. “Talk? About what? The fact that my brother killed my mother and now you’re best buds again?”

“Evi-” 

“No!” She shouts, jumping to her feet. “You don’t get to call me that, not after turning your back on my mother!” 

“Your mother was obsessed with getting her revenge on Moira Queen, on procuring your legacy. I made a mistake when I gave her the Mirakuru. She was angry and she rushed into a situation she was unprepared for. She was never supposed to get involved with the physical aspect of it. I dragged her further in. If she had just kept her hold on the corporation.” 

“So it’s her fault?” Evie challenges, jumping to her feet. “You trained her to fight!” 

“And I shouldn’t have!” Slade growls. “It’s my fault she died!” 

The shock is a bath of cold water, an abrupt end to her ire, a change so sudden she collapses back into her seat. “What?” 

Slade runs a hand over his face, pain and sorrow welling in his eyes. “I should never have given Isabel the Mirakuru. It brought her back, but it destroyed her mind. She thought it made her invincible. One of Oliver’s allies got to her. He told me it was one of the League of Assassins.” 

“He told you,” she spits. “And you believe him? He could have told you anything, whatever he wanted.” 

Slade nods in acknowledgement. “He could, but the Kid’s not one to lie. You know that, Evie.” 

Memory recall brings forward the moment they realized Oliver was a murderer, how he talked to her, came clean. He didn’t hide anything. It had almost made her like him, willing to forgive him anything. She wanted his camaraderie in those moments. Oliver can’t lie for shit, but when he speaks the truth, it rings in every pore of his body. 

“For what it’s worth, I believe him.” 

Evelyn glares at Slade. This is one matter she refuses to budge on because if she concedes, it complicates everything. It’s so much simpler to pin all the blame on one person than to accept the inevitable fact that her own mother was partially responsible for her own demise. Giving her enemy agace made life so much simpler. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo. And for what you had to go through alone in the last few years, but teaming up with Adrian, Evie?” 

A wince is the only indication of her regret. “He found me, or rather he found out through Talia that our goals aligned. He gave me the opportunity to find you.” That was her goal, after all. Hurting Oliver was a bonus, but not her endgame. 

“Psychological torture? Betrayal? That’s dark stuff, stuff you can’t come back from.” Slade looks sad, so somber she knows he’s thinking about another black and yellow mask. 

“It wasn’t like that!” Evelyn’s hand curls around the steak knife that Slade shouldn’t have left on the table. “I was trying to get my family back. 

“Hurting Oliver won’t bring your mom back.” 

“I wasn’t trying to get her back, old man.” 

“Then wh-” 

“You! You thick-skulled donkey testicle! I was trying to get you back.” 

She’s lost her appetite, swallowed it in an accidental confession. They don’t talk about feelings - her and Slade. They don’t say those things aloud. She just broke that cardinal rule without any warning, although the brickhead should really have seen this coming. Her mother was killed during the attempted invasion of Starling, her aunt and uncle by Damien Darhk, hell, even her biological father - whom she never met - was killed by the machinations of Malcolm Merlyn. Her only living blood relatives would never trust her again, but Slade...she trusts him completely. 

He is the only family she has left. 

Unable to face the ramifications of what she just revealed, Evelyn shoves back from the table and runs from the room. She slams the door to her room shut behind her and throws herself back on the bed. With a huff, she flops onto her back at resumes her stare down with the lazily oscillating fan over her bed. 

God, her life is a mess. 

… 

_ He’s her family _ . 

Slade vacantly gazes out the window over the sink, lost in thought as the faucet continues to spew water over half-washed dishes. He’s a family once, a long time ago, one that grieved his death while he was stranded on Lian Yu, one that had welcomed him home until they realized what a monster the Mirakuru had turned him into. He’d survived Oliver’s arrow to his eye and washed up on New Zealand with a blessedly clear mind, only for it to shatter when his family was attacked. 

He’d thought them all dead, and in his diseased mind it all traced back to Oliver Queen, and the monster he had turned Slade into. It was then that he set on a path for revenge. Only now, free of the poison could he see somewhat clearly. It had been a dark place for him, a time where anger ruled everything. But in that haze, he had met Isabel Rochev and inexplicably Evelyn Rochev had wormed her way through his disease to reach the man within. 

She had become his family, someone precious to protect. He’s furious she was so desperate that she partnered with another monster and yet he can’t be angry because she did it to save him. Damnit all. She’s a good kid who shouldn’t be shackled to a wreck of a man like him. 

With a frustrated huff, he shuts off the water and glances at the locked chest in the corner that holds both his and Evie’s gear. It hasn’t been opened since he dragged them into this bungalow a week ago, which doesn’t mean he isn’t acutely aware of the key hidden on the top shelf of one of the cabinets. 

He wanted a normal life for the girl in the other room, the girl who had to grow up too fast. She’s barely eighteen. Her biggest worries the last few years should have been schoolwork and picking colleges, a crush on someone in her school. She shouldn’t be playing games of life and death, not at her age. And she kept insisting that she wanted that life. 

He had planned on staying here until he could get her to go back to Oliver, to return her to her family because she deserved that. He would put his own mission to reunite with his son on hold for her redemption. But it turns out that’s not what she wants. She wants to be with him. 

It’s an obstacle he didn’t prepare for. 

He wants his escrima back in his hands, to deal with his thoughts as though they were a physical demon. Knowledge of where the key is stashed gnaws at the back of his mind as he forces himself to walk away. Opening the chest without Evelyn by his side feels wrong, like a violation of trust. It would cross a line for him to open that box without her. He’s just as trapped in his hut as she is. 

Still, he needs to move. 

Slade throws the door open to the porch, stepping out into the cool night air, not bothering to close the doors behind him as he moves toward the ocean. Feet sink into sand. The moon reflects off the waves that crash onto the beach. 

It’s similar to the long nights on Lian Yu, in the rare moments where he wasn’t on guard, where he wasn’t watching his back. He used to watch the waves with Shado after her old man had passed, in one of those rare moments where they trusted Oliver alone. It was one of those moments that cemented itself in his mind, a truly peaceful moment where they spoke of loved ones lost.  

It had been the moment where his feelings for Shado grew to more than just those of camaraderie. Sure, he was attracted to her before. She was a beautiful woman, but in that moment the connection had been deeper. He’d had plenty of time to think about it while he was locked in that cell on Lian Yu, more than enough time to consider how much of that connection was just in his head, amplified in his deranged mind. 

He’d questioned every relationship he’d ever had sitting in that cell. It was long and arduous. He still doesn’t know how much he can trust his memories, what has and hasn’t been tainted by the Mirakuru. 

Evie had fallen into the uncertain category. There was no way he could tell what was real versus what wasn’t. He’d met her when he was already swamped in the drug. He remembered Evie as an eager young girl who just wanted to be closer to her mother. She was tough, brassy, and a stereotypical angry teenager. Under it all though, she’s got a soft heart. 

She’s different from his son. 

Joe Wilson took after his mother. He was kind and soft spoken, even if he looked like Slade. He was a bookworm, a gamer. When he was little they had thrown a ball in the backyard, but as he got older, Joe leaned toward more intellectual pursuits. Slade was proud of him for that. His boy was a genius. He was going to change the world with his beautiful brain, but the most Slade could do was challenge him to a game of chess. The rest of the science and math was lost on him. 

Yet the more he thinks about it, the stronger connection he feels to the two of them. They are the two people he will drop everything to help, as indicated by the current situation. Evie has his whole attention. He needs to be there for her. 

Slade’s eyes flutter closed as he centers himself with deep breaths of fresh salty air. It doesn’t calm his deep desire to  _ do something _ . He needs something physical. He was locked in the  ARGUS cell for years and this bungalow feels just as confining. His goal was to convince Evelyn to go back to Star City, to mend the bridges she burned. Oliver would take her under his wing and Slade would be a little closer to making things up to Evelyn, not that he could ever erase her mother’s death. 

He hadn’t factored in that she might view as family, nor that he felt the same way. 

Perhaps she was right. 

With that revelation, Slade’s eyes open into newfound understanding. They’ve been cooped up for a week and both of them are going crazy. Neither him nor Evelyn are homebodies. They are physical creatures. His mistake was making them stay in one place, in thinking that he could set Evelyn on the right road and then push her off on Oliver. 

This is going to be a long road and he needs to be there for Evelyn. In all honesty, he could use her help. So that’s what he’s going to do: he’s going to take Evie with him as he searches for Joe. Because she’s right. They are family. He’s not going to turn his back on that. 

… 

“So where are we headed now? Another deserted island where you can lock me away for all eternity?” 

Slade chuckles, turning the car down another road, heading toward the center of town as he glances skeptically at traffic cameras. “Nope.” 

Evelyn huffs, propping her feet up on the dashboard. “Then where are we going? Back to your buddy in Star City? Gonna hand me over to the police?” 

She’s lashing out after last night’s confession. She wouldn’t eat breakfast and grumbled all through packing her bags. She barely spoke through the whole thing and kept shooting him furtive hurt looks. Slade knows he’s bad at this, at the whole spectrum of emotions. He could have told her everything he figured out last night, but he’s not that person and they both know that. 

“We’re headed to Sydney.” 

The girl in the passenger seat freezes beside him. “Australia?” 

“If Joe was relocated through Child Services or ASIS, that’s where the records will be.” He turns the wheel towards the private airstrip. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you wanted by the Australian government?” At least she’s paying attention now, no longer absorbed in her foul mood. Her feet hit the floorboards and she twists to face him. “Is this like a covert mission? Are we going to drop i n from above? Get in and get out. Kill any witnesses?” 

Slade snorts. “Not that kind of mission. I should have been cleared. I shouldn’t have a kill-on-sight order anymore.” 

“Shouldn’t or don’t?” 

Oh, so she noticed that little bit of doubt, that unknown factor. According to Oliver, he’s been cleared. He hasn’t been brave enough to test that theory, not until right now. He glances sideways. “What do you say, Evie? Up for an adventure?” 

Her lips tick up in a smile. “So, what? We’re just going to waltz onto a plane and see if they’ll let you get off in Sydney without trying to kill you? If they don’t we’re going to fight out way out?”  

He chuckles. “Try not to sound so excited. I’m hoping for a smooth landing.” 

“I’m just surprised  you’re willing to let me fight. What happened to locking me in a room for the foreseeable future?” 

“Well, that obviously wasn’t going to work.” Slade leans back into his seat with a sigh. “You were right, kid. We’re family. We’re just short one more: my son.” 

Evie’s grin eases any reservations he has about including her in this. She pulls a dagger from her boot and starts twirling it. “Can’t wait to meet him, old man.” 

Slade laughs. “I’m sure.” 

“Well, we’re family, aren’t we? I’ve never had a brother before.” Evie’s smile reminds him that she’s just a young girl, with hopes and dreams buried under a surly topsoil. She gave the impression of an older woman in her world outlook, in her attitude, but the child within really wasn’t buried that deep. 

“I think you’ll like Joe.” He hopes so. More than almost anything in the world,  he wants them to get along. He wants to have a family again,   _ finally _ , after so many years fighting his personal darkness. He thinks he and Evelyn just might deserve that. 

“Well then, what are we waiting for, old man? Let’s get your son back!” 

… 


	2. A Treasure Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade and Evelyn start the search for Joseph Wilson.

Evelyn bounces lightly on the balls of her feet as she stares up at the less-than-impressive ASIS building. It feels good to have the familiar molded leather boots back on her feet, embracing her like a second skin. Her long hair hangs in a heavy braid over her shoulder, a balaclava folded over her head as a hat, just in case it becomes necessary. 

She forewent her bow for this interaction, opting instead for the two short swords that cross the small of her back, hidden under an oversized jacket. Without Artemis’s bow, she feels slightly naked, but she’s willing to forgo that issue simply to face the monster in front of her. Child Protective Services had been a joke. Five minutes there and it was clear no one had heard of Joseph Wilson...well, at least not Slade’s son. Which left them with ASIS. 

Evelyn grins like the Cheshire cat as she looks at the famed ASIS security system. It’s good. Like  _ really _ good. Like the kind of place you’d have to be desperate or crazy to break into, which doesn’t say much about her as she’s literally bouncing on her feet at the prospect of testing her skills on this monumental break-in. It’s the kind of place that spells danger, the kind of place where they shoot first and keep you alive long enough to interrogate you. Any sane person would walk away, a fast-pace,  don’t-look-suspicious, basically-a-jog walk.  

But, hey,  if it’s insane, maybe she should be committed because all she sees is a fun stealth exercise. 

“So how are we doing this?” She stretches her hands over her head. “Roof? Secret entrance? Please tell me it’s not through the sewers.” 

“Nope.” Slade stares at the building, lips set in a grim expression as his one eye darts around. “We’re walking through the front door.” 

Evie pauses mid-bounce. “What?” 

She loses the lead as Slade steps into the crosswalk. She jogs slightly to catch up with his long stride. “What do you mean we’re walking in the front door?” 

“Exactly what I said.” No longer  hidden in the shadows of the alley across the street, they attract a couple curious stares. 

“Then why did we bother suiting up?” Okay, maybe she’s miffed that there won’t be any fighting happening. She could use a good fight, a challenge. It’s been too long since she’s done more than train. Her blades are itching to draw blood. 

Slade glances sideways. “Just in case. I cleared airport security. Doesn’t mean I can walk into ASIS without  getting in trouble.” 

Evelyn groans. “And I finally thought I would get to have some fun.” 

“I’ll make a deal,” Slade offers as the building in question - the one that could be a death trap - get closer, “if we make it through this without a fight, we’ll break out the swords tonight.”

Excitement fades and trepidation surges in Evelyn’s system. Sneaking in: that was exciting. Walking through the front door and seeing what happens? That’s terrifying. The element of surprise could only work to their benefit. Slade knows the layout of the building and he’d briefed Evie on the plane ride, but she didn’t know the building - or any of the defenses - for this to be the most practical point of entry. 

She’s suddenly feeling drastically unprepared for this adventure. 

The lobby is quiet and surprisingly mundane for a government agency, but then Evie also clocks three weapons on each person she sees. Only years of training stop her from shifting anxiously as she surveys her surroundings. She’s no good to Slade if they take her down right away. 

“Hi, there! Can I assist you?” The perky brunette behind the counter is the type of happy you get from a pill, the kind that you swear can’t be natural. Hands down, there’s a panic button on the other side of the counter. 

Whatever she expects to happen, both Evie and the secretary are at a loss as Slade tosses his red and orange mask on the counter in a declaration. Whatever he intends it to mean, the girl lurches as soon as she’s processed the mask now staring at her. She presses an alarm, pushes back from the desk, and presses against an comm unit tucked discretely into her ear. 

Evelyn’s hand drops to the hilt of her sword. 

Slade, however, calmly lifts his hands up by his head, well away from his body and any weapons he might wield. “Not yet, Evie. This is just protocol.”

So he says, but she’s less-than-convinced since Secretary Barbie is shouting “Deathstroke is in the building! Repeat: Deathstroke is in the building!” 

“Evelyn.” 

She drops the hilt and takes a step back from Slade as each person she spotted earlier moves closer, weapons no longer concealed. The ASIS agents are focused on Slade where he seems content to stand, relaxed. 

“Slade Wilson.” 

Evelyn peeks around Slade to see the newcomer headed off the elevator. She’s heard of Amanda Waller, Head of ARGUS, heard she was terrifying and always prim and proper. This man is the opposite. In a sea of polished agents, he wears jeans and a t-shirt. Sure, he’s tall and muscular, but there are no tell-tale bulges of concealed weapons, no obvious ones either. She’s pretty sure there’s a barbeque stain on his shirt. He’s obviously in charge. Agents move around him and he stops about twenty feet from Slade, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Last time I saw you, you were a raging lunatic who slaughtered the group of highly trained assassins who killed your wife, survived three shots to the chest, and escaped ASIS custody.” 

Well, now she feels so much better about this walking-straight-into-ASIS-headquarters idea. She centers her stance and notices that all weapons are focused on Slade, ignoring her in favor of the more dangerous threat. 

“I had a drug in my system. It’s out now.” 

The man crosses his arms, skeptical. “I heard a rumor.” 

“It’s true. You shoot me now, and I might die just like any other man.” 

And then Evelyn will lose another member of her family. She wishes he wouldn’t taunt the men pointing guns at them. With all ASIS’s firepower concentrated on Slade, Evie could get out. Except she wouldn’t leave Slade. 

“Forgive me for the precaution then.” The man takes another step forward. “Why are you here, Wilson?” 

“I am looking for Joe, my son.” 

“Does it look like he’s here?” The man looks around as if Slade’s son might be hiding behind an ASIS agent. It’s a joke. “I was willing to let you go, Wilson. You were one of our best. It wasn’t worth the death toll if I tried to bring you in. And then you come waltzing through our front door, again.” 

Evelyn’s hands lower a fraction to float over the hilts of her swords as Slade makes an agitated noise in the back of his throat. 

“I was under the influence of Mirakuru. I wasn’t myself.” 

“It raised a lot of red flags about the whole incident with Billy Wintergreen.” 

“Billy turned traitor when he found out we were stranded on that God-forsaken island.” Slade sighs. “I’m not here to resume old quarrels. I’m just looking for my son. Child Services has nothing on him, which means ASIS took care of his placement.” 

Boss Man folds his arms over his chest. “From where I’m standing, I don’t see anything to support your claim of sanity. If we relocated Joseph, it wasn’t for you, but for Adeline. Her son deserved to grow up safe.” His eyes flit to Evelyn. “It already looks like you’ve got your claws into another young mind.” 

Evelyn can’t resist giving Boss Man a little wave and a smile. “Hi there!” 

She can practically feel Slade’s exasperation. “She’s none of your concern.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have brought her into the building.” 

Boss Man has a point. If she had gum, Evelyn would be blowing bubbles now with the express intent of popping them as loudly as possible. Because it’s a good question: Why is she here? The strategic thing would be to have her outside to jump in for a surprise rescue if needed. But she wasn’t. She was here with him. 

“I’m the muscle,” she jokes with a sneer at the Boss Man, moving so she’s next to Slade instead of partially behind. She winks at one of the agents. There’s a couple snorts, a laugh in reaction to her response. If they want to underestimate her, that’s their problem. 

Boss Man takes the time to look at her seriously, the first time he’s removed his eyes from Slade, the bigger threat. His gaze pauses where three of her  six weapons are and she’s impressed he caught more than just the obvious two at her back. So maybe she shouldn’t be drawing attention to her combat abilities, but it feels nice to be acknowledged rather than looked down on. 

“So you’ve got this mystery drug…” 

Oh, Boss Man does not like that idea. Stony disapproval replaces his calm and every agent around the room tightens their grips. Tension skyrockets, like on one of the anime she used to watch where you could see it in the air. 

Evelyn’s itching for a fight, but that’s obviously not the way Slade wants this to go down, which is probably why she speaks in his defense. “Pfft! Like he’d give me that stuff even if he had it.” 

Slade narrows his eyes at her, taking his eyes completely off the ASIS men, which he’s probably still more than aware of. “Kid…” 

“What? Even when you were hopped up on the stuff, you didn’t give me any.” It never even crossed his mind as far as she could tell. They never talked about it, never broached the subject between them. She didn’t want it, and from what he told her, he didn’t want to give it to her mother either, had only used it as a last resort and regretted it. “I can handle myself without a miracle drug.” 

There’s a sigh in Slade’s posture as his eyes close for a brief second, but the stiffness in his shoulders has loosened with her familiar banter. He doesn’t respond in kind, just shifts back to face Boss Man. 

“Chris,” Slade pleads. “He’s my son.” 

The man shifts uneasily. He pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces. “Alright. Fine. There was an incident. We decided it was for the best to transfer him out of ASIS, to distance him from you and any of your enemies.” 

Slade stiffens. “What-” 

“We used an old contract to get him placed in a home in the United States. Last I heard, he was placed in Coast City.” 

Slade nods. “Thank you.” 

“I’m doing this for the kid,” Chris clarifies. “And to get you out of our hair, got it, Wilson? You show your face here again and we shoot first.” 

“Understood. Good to see you again, Chris.” 

Boss Man doesn’t understand and Slade turns his back on the agents to walk from the building, as though they were never an issue, as if he couldn’t care less about the thirty guns aimed at his back. Evelyn stares around for another beat, waiting. She’d kind of wanted a good fight. 

She backs out of the room, waving at the agents. “Nice to meet you all. Maybe next time we’ll get the chance to play.” 

… 

Coast City is disgustingly bright, Slade decides as he stares out at the airfield they just landed in. It’s all sunshine and blue skies, a balmy breeze. In short, all the beauty of Australia without the environment that’s evolved to fight back. Then he turns back to the skyscrapers rising in the distance. They’re here, with only a clue. Oliver was able to give him a couple of addresses, places where boys matching Joe’s description were fostered,  places where he might be.

It’s a large city,  one a person could disappear in.  Slade’s got experience with that part. Finding his son, who would have been here for years, who’s grown now...that might not be where ASIS left him. 

“Ahhh, good old Coast City,” Evelyn announces, arms stretched over her head as she lets out a giant yawn. “Really brings back memories.” 

Slade shades his eyes against the sun with a sigh. “Let’s just find Joseph and get out of here.” 

“Right. First objective: Find Joseph Wilson, convince him to join a world renowned assassin.” Evelyn saunters down the stairs. “Second: Get Falafel from that cart on Marshall Avenue. Third: Burn off those calories fighting crime since I didn’t get to fight any trained government agents in Australia.”

“It’s for the best, kid. We wouldn’t have gotten out of there in one piece if fighting broke out.” Slade sighs. It’s why he had them walk through the front door. That was their best chance of survival. Slade slings his bag over his shoulder and starts for the waiting town car. A man in a black suit with dark glasses waits beside the back door. He opens it as they approach. 

“I’m better than you remember, old man. You might not like their methods, but you have to admit that Adrian and Talia knew how to fight.” Evelyn stops just outside the car door, flicking a dagger out of a hidden holster and flipping around before it disappears back where it came from. Slade hasn’t even realized she was still packing. “I would have at least given us a fighting chance.”

Slade slides into the car behind Evie and reaches for his own hidden weapons, to make sure they’re still in place. “We’re not fighting indiscriminately anymore.” She raises an eyebrow at him and Slade pulls out his phone, the one that connects him to Oliver. “Conditions of my release. And yours.” 

She narrows her eyes. “I thought you said they didn’t know.” 

“They don’t. And if you want to keep it that way, we’re going to have to move under their radar.” 

“And commissioning a private plane was staying under the radar?” She points back at the airport as it disappears into the distance. 

“I had a friend at Ferris Air.” He avoids speaking more. Strictly speaking, he did a favor for a man at Ferris Air while he was still part of ASIS, the kind of favor you didn’t talk about. It was part of the life he left behind and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Evie taps a finger against the window pane. “My aunt and uncle fostered for a little while. I remember them trying to adopt a pair of siblings when I was seven: Becca and CJ. They’d been living with us for a year and half. The adoption had almost gone through when their missing father showed up out of the blue. It broke my aunt’s heart. She would cry every time she walked past their rooms until finally my dad and I redid them completely.” 

Slade holds his breath as he waits for her to get to her point. She’s sharing something personal with him, something that obviously meant a lot to her if she still remembers it. He knows she didn’t have any adopted siblings, no one but her mother, aunt, and uncle. This little bit of her is precious. He can’t cut her off from the little bits of her heart that she still keeps protected. 

“If Joseph found a home like he had, he was loved.” She shrugs, like her words are nothing, wisps of hope that will come to nothing. 

They both know it could go the other way. Slade spent his own time in the foster system in Australia. He’s seen the darker side and he never wanted that for his son. Regret it as he might,  it’s worthless to dwell on the past and the things he cannot change. His only hope is that Joseph will forgive him for all the evil he’s done. 

“Then let’s see if we can find him,” Slade offers instead, calling an address to the driver. Evie shifts back in her seat. Now that she’s awake and her mind is no longer  preoccupied, nervousness sets in. Slade can see it in the rigid tense of her shoulders, in the way her fingers fidget with her rings, spinning them round and round her fingers just for something to do, the way her jaw works as if she’s physically chewing on her thoughts. 

He hasn’t managed to assuage all her fears about losing him  once he finds his son,  but Slade’s at a loss. He doesn’t know how else to explain it to her to make her understand. He has to hope that his actions as they search for Joseph are enough. It’s not something he’s had to think about in years but he finds himself desperate to get it right this time around. He has to. It’s not enough to redeem  himself, not if he loses her. 

By the third address, Slade’s knee bounces in agitation. The first two houses were busts. At one they were turned away without more than a few words. Evelyn jumped at the opportunity to slip through the window and check the family’s records. She deemed them clean and they had moved on. At the other,  Slade had managed a conversation, showed Joseph’s picture and been reluctantly told he had never been there. 

There were two more addresses left. 

“This place looks like some of the places I stayed in the Glades,” Evelyn observes with a grimace as she looks up at the shabby two-family home. The railing on the front porch looks like a strong wind would knock it over. The steps are uneven, and the entire place looks like it could use a paint job. 

“Well, if he was here, I hope he’s out now,” Slade mutters. Joe was smart enough to get out of a place like this, but sometimes that’s not enough. Slade kicks a beer bottle that’s fallen out of the recycling on the curb. 

Evelyn joins him on the sidewalk and leans against the car, eyes tracing up and down the street where their vehicle has gained attention. “I’ll just wait by the car.” She adjusts her stance, hands slipped into her pockets as if to look nonchalant. “In case anyone tries to make trouble,” she adds with a pleased grin, making it clear what her preference is. 

Slade’s eyes slip to the trio of men down the street that are staring directly at Evie already. “Whistle if you need me,” he says. He’s sure they won’t be a problem, that she’ll manage to take care of herself. It doesn’t stop the parental worry as he walks away from her and up the front steps. 

The door shifts as he knocks, not opening but moving noticeably. He waits a beat and knocks again. The third knock is met with a crash of glass and muffled curses as a body inside moves. Heavy, leaden steps creak over old floorboard before the door is thrown open to a bleary-eyed man squinting through an alcohol induced haze. 

“Whaddaya wan’?” The words come in a wave of sour breath, the kind that comes when one’s been using alcohol like mouthwash. 

“I’m looking for my son. He might have been fostered here.” 

The man blinks slowly, mouth moving for a moment before words come out. “No kids ‘ere. No’ since my wife pass’d.” 

He starts to close the door, but leans too heavily on it and stumbles instead. The movement give Slade a glance down the hall, more specifically to a picture hanging in the entry way. It’s a picture of a family. The man before him is barely recognizable as the father, the drink turning him into a gaunt spectre of the fit man in the portrait. 

The woman and young girl mean nothing to Slade, but the boy he recognises. Joe is older than he was when Slade last saw him, about sixteen, but there’s no denying he’s Slade’s son. He’s almost the spitting image of Slade at that age, before he started to fill out and gain muscle. There are bits of Adeline in the curve of his face, his eyes, but he looks just like Slade. 

“Why’re ya still here?” The man demands. 

Slade blinks in surprise, jolted from his perusal of the picture. “Uh,  nothing. Thank you, sir.” 

Without another word, he walks from the house. Evelyn is still alone at the car. She’s pulled a phone out from who knows where and appears to be absorbed in it. The men from down the street have moved closer but they maintain their distance. 

“Another bust?” Evie asks as he nears. 

Slade, however, has an alternative destination. He veers toward the men on the street. They straighten as he nears, puffing up to make themselves larger. 

“You know the kids who lived in that house?” Slade asks, hands in his jacket to make himself less of a threat. 

“Depends who’s asking.” 

It’s a predictable response and Slade stares them down. They’re small dogs compared to the criminals he’s dealt with.  “The older boy is my son.” 

They exchange looks. “What are you looking for him for?” 

“So you know where I can find him.” It’s not a question. 

“You really his dad?” One of the  men asks, moving forward. 

“He had a scar across his back, from shoulder to hip. Another one across the back of his left hand. He got those the night he had to leave for his own protection.” He tilts his head. “So I’ll ask you again, where can I find my son?” 

… 


	3. An Old Friend in the Big Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph Wilson's trail leads Evelyn and Slade to New York City, where Evelyn runs into an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE COMES RORY! This entire fic is a great big ball of I-don't-know-what's-happening but here! Have some shippiness!

“You weren’t kidding when you said your boy was smart.” Evelyn stares up at the modern glass building in awe. She’s never had any musical inclination, but she knows it’s hard to get into Julliard. Slade has been an odd mixture of shocked and proud since Coast City. She barely heard anything from him on the flight across the county. Now, here they stood in front of the building, staring at a poster advertising the musical stylings of Joseph De Marc. 

She doesn’t need to ask if he’s the one and only Joseph Wilson. She can tell from his picture and the look of awe on Slade’s face. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, maybe something like Curtis - a nerd with some physical ability. Someone Slade’s height but all gangly limbs. 

“He’s hot,” she says to break the spell the poster has on Slade. It’s only a couple weeks old, but they’ve missed the concert. Slade spins around to look at her with wide eyes. Evelyn grins back at him. “Relax, old man. I’m not interested, just observing. He looks like you.” 

“He’s done well,” Slade whispers, turning back to the poster.  His hand grazes the SOLD OUT banner that covers the corner of the poster. 

For the first time, Evelyn sees doubt and reluctance color Slade’s expression as he falls deeper into a funk. 

“If it was me, I would give anything to see my last living relative again,” Evelyn whispers. “And I speak from experience.” She takes a deep breath and a step back. “I’ll let you talk to him. Give me a call when you’re done.” 

Her heart breaks a little more as she walks away. Angrily, she wills the tears away. Slade isn’t walking away from her. She’s walking away from him. That’s what she does. She doesn’t give people the opportunities to walk away from her any more. That’s how you let people break your heart, something she refuses to let happen ever again. 

Only once she rounds the corner, does Evelyn pause. With a few rapid blinks she dispels any gathering water before she strides forward with renewed purpose. Her hand wraps around the fletchette in her pocket as she resolves herself to working through her problems on one of the criminals of New York City. 

Step by step, Evelyn wanders the city without a clue to where she’s going or a even any real notice of her surroundings. Of course, throughout her training with Slade, Oliver, Adrian, she’s learned to take notice of her surroundings and it’s still there like a whisper of a voice in the back of her mind counting how many blocks she’s walked and how many turns she’s taken. Even without the aid of her phone, she could make it back to Slade. Would it be faster if she knew the city? Certainly. But it’s not really going to deter her either. 

There’s a girl, no older than Evelyn, who sits on a stoop, smoking a cigarette with a foul glare for anyone who looks her way for too long. Attitude rolls off her but does nothing to disguise the shivers that wracked her too-slight frame. Where Evelyn’s body is a mass of hard-earned muscle, this girl is barely skin and bones. 

The girl probably won’t survive the year. It’s a morose thought, but Evelyn’s seen the same people on the streets of Starling, eeking out a living in the Glades which seem to be perpetually shrouded in shadow. 

Evie should just walk on by. She has little to nothing on her. Everything her mother and aunt left her on the other side of the country or in Russia. She’s got a couple fake IDs and forty bucks. If Slade doesn’t call for her, that could be all she lives on for a while. It’s her conscience that makes the choice, which is the bane of her existence. Curse her soft heart. 

She stalks back to the girl and drops onto the stoop next to her. The girl jumps and scoots away but doesn’t leave the step. She huddles against the railing, as if it’s cold embrace could warm her. 

Silence swells for a moment as Evelyn combats her awkwardness. She sat here because she wanted to help, but it feels awkward initiating it of her own volition. She prefers hiding behind a mask when she does good in this world. 

She untangles her scarf from around her neck and holds it out to the girl. There’s a quick glance in Evie’s direction, but otherwise the girl doesn’t react. Evelyn shakes her hand so the scarf flops about in violent motion of fabric. The girl looks away. With an exasperated sigh, Evelyn moves closer. 

“You look cold.” She shakes the scarf one more time. 

“Look, lady, I don’t know what gets you off, but I’m not interested.” 

It’s the ‘lady’ part that gets to Evelyn. She’s barely older than the girl. It’s not like she’s a middle aged woman. Heck, she’s barely a legal adult. “I’m not looking for anything,” she growls back. “I’m just trying to offer you a scarf to keep you warm.” 

“Well, I’m not interested. Keep walking.” 

A scowl takes over her face as Evelyn. She’s just trying to be nice. How is it that whenever she tries to be genuinely nice, it gets thrown back in her face? She stands and throws the scarf on the steps next to the girl. 

“Whoa! Hey, hey, no need to get angry. She’s just trying to be nice, Abby.” 

Evelyn stills. She knows that voice, knows it like she knows the gentle hand that lands on her forearm. That voice she’d heard raised in anger, weighted with pain, soft with newfound peace. She’s heard him yell and scream. He’d been the one person on Team Arrow that she’d truly felt a connection to, the person who got under her shell.  

“Rory?” 

Her eyes soak in his spiky hair and soft, compassionate smile. His smile widens at her surprise. “Hey.” He turns back to the girl - Abby. “Don’t worry, Abs. She’s a friend.” 

Evelyn glances back, surprised when the girl listens to him and tentatively picks up the scarf, even more surprised that he came to her defense at all. Shouldn’t he be calling the police or something? 

He reaches out and hands Abby an aluminum foil roll of what appears to be a hot dog. Abby even smiles up at him. She’s enamored even. Evelyn finds herself a little envious of the fact that Rory has so easily slipped past this girl’s defenses. She’s never had that kind of charisma. 

“Thanks,” Abby whispers, although she shoots a narrowed gaze in Evelyn’s direction. “She really your friend?” 

“Yeah. She’s just got a tough, crusty shell.” Rory grins, hands shoved in his pocket. He glances at her and then down the street. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” 

Evelyn spares Abby an anxious glance before falling into step with Rory. He keeps a polite distance, keeping several inches between them even as his body leans towards her. She chews on her lips, searching for the words.  _ Why doesn’t he hate her? _ Unless this all ploy and he called the team before walking up to her... 

No, he had nothing to gain by pretending to be nice to her. He could just send her running. Yell and scream. She deserves it. Then again, he’s also the most likely to understand. He did go on a rampage looking for the people responsible for Havenrock. So maybe he’s less likely to dismiss her. 

But what she’d done to the team was unforgivable. She’d turned her back on the team, a team that had become a family to Rory. There was no way she could expect this to go well. It was impossible. She was a traitor. 

“I didn’t expect to see you in New York,” she finally whispers, about three blocks later. She pitches her voice low, partially because she doesn’t want anyone to hear and partially so that if the raw emotion in her voice gets swallowed by the busy street then they don’t have to acknowledge it. 

She isn’t so lucky. 

“I could say the same thing to you.” Rory glances at her. His early smile has slipped, been replaced by a speculative gaze, like he’s searching for what she’s hiding, like he can see right through her. Then, after another prolonged silence: “I have a cousin in the city. It seemed like as good a place as any.” 

Evelyn nods. Family: it’s important. 

“What about you? Why aren’t you in Star City?” 

She pauses in the middle of the sidewalk and Rory turns to face her with a frown. She wants to blurt it out. The truth or a lie, it doesn’t matter. She waits for something to come flying out of her mouth, something to explain what’s happened. It will make him walk away from her, that’s for certain, but she deserves that, doesn’t she. She’s done terrible things. She doesn’t deserve a warm welcome or a friendly hug or any of that. Hell, she doesn’t even deserve Slade. 

Slade’s made amends, but she’s just a despicable human being. 

She’s Cain. She helped a man attempt to kill her brother. And now she’s having a crisis of conscience. She’d been doing such a great job of ignoring it up until now. 

“Alright, what’s up, Evelyn?” 

Defensively, her arms cross her chest and she takes a step back. “What’s up? Nothing’s up. I just…” And she has no idea how to finish that sentence. “Why aren’t you trying to arrest me or something?”

Surprise mars his features at the accusation. Rory steps closer, his hand reaching out to hover over her arm before he pulls it back. “Because I’m sure you had your reasons, but working with Prometheus, that isn’t who you are. You’re not a villain, Evelyn. You should get a chance to tell your story to someone who will listen. I won’t judge you. Remember when you met me and I went after the people I thought were responsible for Havenrock. Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as that.” 

Evelyn huffs and looks away. “You say that now.” 

He frowns and steps closer, still not touching, still giving Evelyn her own private bubble, her own space to process. “It’s not like you killed someone on the team, right?” 

A laugh rips from her throat in a sob, hysterical. She feels like crying just at the simple question. If she could, she would reprimand herself for such sentimental drivel in connection to a team she betrayed. “No. They’re all fine. Just fine. Back in Star City and everything.” 

Rory’s hand lands on her shoulder. Her eyes jerk to that point of contact and follow his arm up until she stares into his warm  brown eyes. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” 

Her head shakes violently at his kind question. She can’t do this. She’s just started down a path where she focuses on the people who are important to her, where she acts for more than just her own self-interest. Seeing Slade’s devotion to his son, his family, it only  makes her feel worse. “I betrayed them. You. All of you.” 

He nod, like he knows she needs to say this. “Why?” 

“I  _ betrayed _ you. I was working for Prometheus the whole entire time. I betrayed all of you, so you can stop giving me that empathetic look!” Her raised voice draws stares, but Evelyn’s mad enough at herself for the both of them so when Rory doesn’t drop his hand from her shoulder, she pushes him away. “I betrayed the team because I blamed Oliver for my mother’s death. I did the unthinkable. So, no, I’m not in New York City searching for redemption or anything like that. I’m running because if they found me, they would send me to jail. I’m a criminal, the enemy, a des-” 

The blaring of her phone cuts off her guilty tirade. Slade’s the only one with the number. She steps back. “I should go.” 

She runs then, leaving Rory behind her, still probably staring at the spot she just vacated in shock. The only continues to blare in her pocket as Evelyn slows to a slight jog, fighting the burn of tears in the corner of her eyes. 

Outside a crowded restaurant, Evelyn stops and pulls her phone from her pocket. She takes a deep breath to still the sobs that weigh on her chest with every breath. It takes all her determination not to cry as she lifts the phone to her ear. 

“That was quick,” she says, swiping at the tears on her face. Her voice is admirably calm despite her emotional state. 

“He’s not here. It was a guest performance.” 

Evelyn’s body sags and she resumes her walk back to the school. She’s a bit turned around after her interaction with Rory, but she’s sure she got this. “So where to now, old man?” 

“Well, that’s the issue…” 

She glances at the walk signal as she stops on the corner, not particularly paying attention to what Slade’s saying as she watches the people around her, wondering how exactly she fits into this world. She doesn’t think she’s a terrible person but she’s also aware that despite being surrounded by fifteen people she could take all of them out in a matter of seconds. 

“Quit beating around the bush and tell me where we’re headed.” 

Slade sighs. “Meet me back at the school and we’ll find somewhere to grab a bite and talk.” 

Her heart hardens at his words. This is how it ends. It was nice while it lasted, searching for Joseph. He must have found a viable lead and decided he didn’t need her dragging him down any further. “No offense, old man, but if you’re going to ditch me, I’d rather just go our separate ways now.” Just another person to break her heart. 

“Evie, we’ve talked about this. I’m not going to leave you alone.” 

She snorts and strides forward with the crowd as the light changes. “Yeah, then what? You’re going to send me away and I’ll never see you again, just like my mother did?” 

Ever-familiar anger rises in her, lashing out indiscriminately. She’s always had to be strong and defend herself. She’s always been responsible. She’s been a grown up since she was seven and old enough to probe her mother about her father. Isabel Rochev had left that heavy information on the shoulders of a child along. She’d dropped that bomb and then left Evelyn to the realization that she was the reason her mother was so obsessed with gaining control of Queen Consolidated. 

Well, shit. 

The phone slips from her hand to land on the concrete below her feet as an epiphany hits Evelyn like a piano falling from the sky. It’s no news that she’s messed up and has abandonment issues. That’s old hat. But she never looked deep enough to realize how deeply that anger and resentment was directed at her mother. 

Her mother abandoned her. Except she didn’t have the courtesy of making a clean break. She kept that thread of hope, that distant dream that one day they would be a true family. It was cruel because it never allowed Evelyn to truly embrace her aunt and uncle as family. She hates her mother for dying before giving her the love she craved. 

God, the only people who came back, who were sure she could be redeemed were the ones she betrayed. She was an idiot. 

Slade Wilson - the mercenary and block that he was - was the first person who felt like family. Her aunt and uncle, bless their hearts, tried, but they had let her push them away. 

Team Arrow had offered her a place, a chance for forgiveness, a group of people who had done varying degrees of terrible things but who were working for the better of the city. She’d been a blind idiot when she teamed up with Adrian. She had blinders on, so focused on finding Slade that she hadn’t stopped to realize that Team Arrow could have given her some semblance of what she needed. 

Hell, she still wouldn’t have realized it if she hadn’t been here, hadn’t come surprisingly face to face with Rory Regan. 

Fuck. 

She drags herself from the street and slips into the unpopulated space between two buildings. Her back crashes into the brick as the first sob wracks her body and the tears stream down her face in a deluge. Her arms wrap around herself in a thin mockery of a hug she desperately craves. 

She’s an idiot for not seeing this sooner, for not realizing that her armor was only a facade. She needs people, that close connection. She  _ craves _ it, and there’s no fucking way she’s letting Slade go wherever Joseph is without her. He’s family, damnit, and she’s going to stick with him to the end of the line, like she should have stuck with her aunt and uncle, like she should have stayed with Team Arrow. 

She’s not evil, not deep down. She doesn’t think so, not if it hurts this fucking much to feel. 

And of course she’s crying in the middle of an alley in New York City. That would be where it hits her, that she’s an idiot. Or maybe just a sucker. She would say her mother raised her better than this, but her mother didn’t really raise her. 

She starts as she senses a presence beside her. 

“Evelyn…” 

Without looking, she turns into the warm body, letting strong arms embrace her as she succumbs to overwhelming hysterics. A voice in the back of her mind whispers that this is weakness, but Evelyn’s too far gone to heed the warning. She burrows into the hug, body shaking as everything hits her all at once. 

“Shhh...it’s okay…” 

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” She grips him harder, clinging like a landline to one of the few people who had ever come after her, who hadn’t let her run away.  

Rory pulls her closer, hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

Her shoulders shake as she struggles to reign in her sobs. Her fingers curl into Rory’s jacket. “Why?” She whispers. “Why did you follow me?” 

“Because no matter what you’ve done, you’re not a bad person, Evelyn.” Rory rests his cheek against her hair. “You wouldn’t be so torn up if you were.” 

“How can you say that?” Her mother was the villain in Oliver’s own story. She’d heard Felicity’s comments about  _ Isabitch Rochev _ . She had found a new home with Slade Wilson, a confirmed criminal and killer. Her father was a part of an initiative to demolish the Glades. She was trained by Talia Al Ghul and Adrian Chase. How could she be anything better than what she’d been groomed to be? 

“Because you helped bring me back,” Rory whispers. “I lost myself and you brought me back.” 

“No. That was the team.” She starts to pull away, but Rory doesn’t let her go easily. 

“It might have been the team, but you were the one who made me want to come back, who understood my grief and didn’t let me wallow in it. And if you think I’m going to let you wallow and doubt yourself, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

The fight leaves her muscles and Evelyn returns the embrace for another moment before pulling back. This time, Rory releases her although his hands end up on her shoulders as he looks her over seriously. “Are you alright?” 

She nods and summons a smile as she wipes the tears away on the fabric of her shirt. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just…” She recalls the conversation that precipitated the event, the sudden realization that Slade was going to drop her like a hot potato. 

Rory pulls out a device from his pocket and holds it between them, where Evelyn can see the screen lit up with an incoming call. “Got some upsetting news?” Rory finishes. “They haven’t stopped calling since you dropped it.” 

With a grimace she lifts the phone to her ear. “Hi.” 

“Are you okay?” 

Rushed and forceful, the words nearly bowl Evelyn over with their physical force. They bring to mind a vision of Slade striding through crowded city blocks, pushing slower pedestrians out of his way as he heads toward her location, or rather in a desperate attempt to find her even though there’s no way for him to know where she is. She turns away from Rory as she takes a deep breath. 

“I...I’m good.” The truth in her words surprises her. Her eyes meet Rory’s again. The small smile he offers calms her further. “I’m on my way back...with a friend.” 

… 

Slade doesn’t know what to expect as he waits in the small diner for Evelyn to appear. It’s been almost two hours and this whole being-in-charge-of-a-teenager thing is starting to get to him. He’s been the worried parent who accidently lost his son in a department store and proceeded to freak out. What’s new is the unexpected worry over emotional turmoil. 

When Joe was missing, he knew his son was most likely just as desperate to get back to him. With Evelyn, he knew her past made her emotionally distant and a flight risk. In those minutes between when their call ended and before she picked up again, the unflappable international criminal had cracked. 

He was convinced that Evelyn was about to run, to disappear into the City that Never Sleeps. He hadn’t even had a place to start looking. She would vanish and he would be stuck searching for two children instead of just one, all because he hadn’t wanted her to freak out over what he’d found out if he told her over the phone. 

His eyes scan the diner again. The tables are stuffed as close as possible in the small space, with barely enough room for a man his size to skirt between them. At this time only about half the tables are full but the whole place has a cluttered feel that still makes it feel full. 

A cup of coffee sits in front of him on the table, the steam that rose from the fresh pot of coffee dissipated twenty minutes ago. If he managed a single sip, he doesn’t remember. It’s cool now, that terrible temperature between warm and cold were it doesn’t taste good. He should have ordered tea. He always liked it better than coffee anyway.

Although that would have been a waste of perfectly good tea. 

_ Jingle _ . 

_ Finally,  _ Slade thinks as he recognizes the back of Evelyn’s head walking through the door. It’s about damn time she got here. He stands as the host directs her down the aisle to his booth. 

He doesn’t pay attention to the skinny figure trialing behind her as he takes three steps forward and wraps her in a bear hug. For a couple minutes there he didn’t think he would get to do this again. It hit him harder than he thought it would. “Don’t do that to me again, kid.” 

She makes a noise between a sob and a laugh. “Then don’t make it sound like you’re abandoning me, old man. Someone’s got to have your back.”

He sighs and drags her back to his booth, letting her settle in on the other side before he sits down and observes the boy sliding into the booth beside her. He looks harmless enough, more lanky than muscular, but there’s also an edge to him as he looks Slade over. Despite himself, that suspicion earns him a bit of Slade’s respect. Also the fact that he doesn’t back down from Slade’s scrutiny. 

“You make friends quick, Evie,” he says instead of addressing the boy directly. The boy leans back in acknowledgement that he’s not being spoken to directly. He doesn’t stop watching Slade though. Another test passed. 

“Rory’s a friend from Star City,” Evelyn introduces in an off-hand manner he might believe if she didn’t appear to be holding his hand under the table. “Rory, this is...Slade Wilson. Slade Wilson, Rory Reagan.” 

The boy looks surprisingly blank. “Slade Wilson as in Deathstroke?” So, he does know the name. Slade expects a bit of fear, a bit of anxiety at the discovery, especially if this is one of Oliver’s protegees. What’s interesting is that he doesn’t see it. The boy - Rory - leans forward and gets partially between him and Evelyn, as if offering her a bit of protection from Slade. 

Definitely interesting. Slade lets his best villainous sneer creep across his face. “You got something to say, kid?” 

“Oh, cool it, old man.” Evelyn pushes Rory back into his seat and glares across the table at him. She turns back to Rory. “He was being controlled by a drug. Oliver teamed up with him to defeat Prometheus.” She glances at Slade again. “Plus, he’s the closest thing to family I have.” 

It’s interesting to see Rory relax under her reassurances. He’s still on guard, but it’s less rigid. “Is this part of what you meant when you said you had reasons for betraying the team?”

Slade blinks at that in surprise. He moves to catch Evie’s eye but she and Rory have sunk into their own little world, locked eye to eye barely a foot apart. 

“Sort of...I was...lost...and I teamed up with Adrian Chase - Prometheus.” These words are hard for her. It makes her confession to Slade seem like child’s play, which is why he backs down and lets the children talk. Evie needs this and who is he to deny her that? Even if she and the boy are too close for his liking. “I was just trying to reunite with Slade. He’s the only family I have.” 

“The team could have been your family.”

His tepid coffee tastes like sludge, burnt sludge. He’s not a part of this conversation, he’s an intruder struggling to let Evie handle this her way. The coffee’s at least good a distraction. He just needs to not take another actual sip. 

Evie looks torn, staring down at where Slade is now positive their hands are joined. So the kid isn’t just a friend. “You were, or you could have been. If I hadn’t thrown everything back in your faces.” 

“Come on, Evelyn. You know that’s not true. The team will forgive just about anything. Just look at me.” 

“Unlike you, I actively tried to kill everyone or did you forget that part?” 

“And do you regret that?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then you just need to prove that to Oliver.” 

Evie scowls at the boy. Slade has to admit that the kid is good. He wouldn’t dare broach that subject with Evie, not yet. She would resist him at every turn, but this Rory kid actually had a chance. Fancy that. 

“I don’t think Oliver will be willing to listen to me.” 

Rory’s eyes dart to Slade and he fights the urge to grin. Yup. He’s definitely the ultimate example of just how much the soft-hearted hero is willing to forgive. Evie follows his gaze, brow furrowed. 

“Your boyfriend’s right,” Slade agrees, lips twitching as they both flush slightly at the moniker. “I killed his mother and we’re buddies now.” 

Evie narrows her eyes. They both know that’s not quite true. Oliver’s doing his best to keep an eye on Slade and has made some less-than-subtle threats about if he ever steps out of line. Felicity is the one who’s holding the grudge, quite wisely if he’s being honest. Oliver always was the soft one. 

“You killed his mother?”  

Evie waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve all lost mothers here. Maybe I don’t want them to forgive me, have you considered that?” 

No one is buying that excuse. 

“If that was true, you wouldn’t have been crying in that alley,” Rory murmurs. 

The full force of her angry glare turns on Rory. He stares back unapologetically. 

“I’m not looking for redemption.” 

She’s been singing the same tune since Lian Yu. Slade’s buying it even less now. He turns away from the couple as the waitress approaches the table. She gets waylaid a few tables over and Slade turns to Evelyn. 

“Well, we’ll find that out for sure soon enough.” Evelyn frowns at him. “We’re leaving in two hours for our next lead.” 

“Where are we headed?” 

“Starling City.”


	4. Back in Star City

**Back in Star City**

“I’m not sure about this,” Evelyn whispers into the car window as they cross the city line and the familiar Star City buildings embrace her. Her nerves have been growing worse as they moved across the county. She’s gone back and forth about a thousand times. She could stand down from this, could take a backseat and not make her presence known. She doesn’t have to show her face at all. She could let Team Arrow keep thinking that she’s dead.

“It’s a little too late for cold feet, kid.” Slade glances over. “We’ve got a concert in fifteen.”

She straightens and adjusts the dress she changed into in the airport bathroom. More like the dress she maneuvered herself into in a tiny stall because a dress this mixture form-fitting and poof was terrible to put on in a stall that’s barely big enough for one person. She’s used to changing in cramped spaces. It’s part and parcel of the whole superhero thing, and if she’s being honest, it was still easier than changing into her leather suit.

“Your son just had to be a virtuoso pianist.” Evelyn ppulls down the visor to check her make up one last time. She feels like she’s playing dress up with this pretty make up that’s the opposite of her usual look.

Slade chuckles. “Your mother loved this stuff. Why am I not surprised you hate it?”

“Well, my mother and I aren’t exactly birds of a feather. Is it really that surprising?”

He fights a grin. “Between you and Oliver, I wish I had gotten the chance to meet Robert Queen. The two of you don’t seem to bear more than a passing resemblance to your mothers.”

Evelyn snorts. “Uh-huh. If you say so.”

“I’ve met both your mothers. The two of you are far wilder. Your mothers were the ruthless ones, unemotional if that’s what it took.” 

“Why do you call both of us Kid?”

Slade glances at Evelyn in mild surprise and then shrugs. “You’re both kids. You haven’t had the easiest lives. When I first met the two of you, you were eager to learn but naïve to the ways of the world.”

“And now?”

He shrugs. Both Evie and Oliver are more alike than they want to believe, or than Evelyn wants to believe. He’s pretty sure Oliver sees it.  They’ve got soft hearts that they don’t like people to see, the kind of people who you want in your corner when the chips are down because they will do whatever it takes to win. They learn quickly and they never give up. “Now you’ve mastered everything you’ve set your mind to…the two of you are more alike than you think.”

“And here I thought you just called everyone kid.”

Her grumble drags another chuckle from Slade. “Maybe so but it has special meaning for Queens.”

Evie makes a face. “Evelyn Queen? Pfft. I don’t think so.”

“Sounds better than Rochev,” Slade notes quietly.

“I think I’ll stick with Sharp.”

Slade smiles as he turns the car into the concert hall parking garage. He has to agree with her. He sees the potential for her to be a Queen, for her to be the hero she pretended to be. She could be whatever she wanted to be,  _ whoever _ she wanted to be. Slade tosses his keys to the valet as he and Evie climb from the car. “Sharp suits you.”

Evie slips her arm through Slade’s when he offers. She was a barrel of nerves the whole drive, and now she walks with confidence. The high heels he’d eyed with trepidation suit her just as much as flats. She looks like the rest of Star City high society that turned out for the benefit concert and banquet. It’s a new skill she’s acquired since he last worked with her. The teenage girl he taught to fight wasn’t capable of half this much.

The concert banner grabs Slade’s attention as they walk through the door: a silhouette of a man playing a piano with a boost for the local deaf school and a Glade’s rebuilding project that the proceeds of the fundraiser are going towards.  There’s a list of guest musicians and the Star City Symphony Orchestra also mentioned, but Slade’s eyes keep wandering back to his son’s stage name: Joseph DeMarque.

“You know, I never understood how these events actually helped the Glades. It’s a bunch of fancy rich people standing around in jewelry that costs more than some people make in a year. How much did you even have to shell out for these tickets?” 

“It’s worth it,” Slade answers robotically, eyes drifting over the silhouette. He can’t tell if it’s really Joseph. He imagines he can see a bit of himself in the silhouette, a bit of his wife. Oh, he’s positive it’s mostly all in his head. It still gives him a inkling of comfort. This is it. He’s seeing his son for the first time in nearly a decade. 

Evelyn shoots him a weird look that he ignores. With a weighted sigh, like she can’t believe she has to be the sane one. “We might as well head inside. Do you think there’s extra space between the seats for rich-people egos?” 

“If there’s enough room for your attitude, I think we’ll manage.” 

Like any teenager would, Evie rolls her eyes as the lights overhead brighten and dim. “Let’s head in, old man. This nonsense is about to start.” 

Slade tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow as they join the steady flow of concert goers. The usher shows them to their seats, as close to the front as they can get: Slade wants to see his son as best he can. He got them edge seats, close to the wall as well as the piano. 

His eye scans the room out of habit, mind too preoccupied to register anything beyond the fact that there was no threat as he slides not his seat. The lights are dimming and a man in a tailored suit takes the stage to make an announcement. 

The words are as good as gibberish to Slade’s ears as he searches what little he can see of wings to find just a glimpse of Joseph. He has to be there, somewhere just out of sight. 

He doesn’t realize he’s twisted the program into an unrecognizable tube of crumpled paper until  Evie prys it from hands and elbows him in the ribs. It does the trick, shocks him from his nerves so he can finally focus on the words in time to hear: 

“So, without further ado, let us welcome to the stage: Joseph DeMarque!” 

Polite applause fills the room as a tall figure crosses the stage, an image that catches Slade’s breath in his throat. The picture he caught a glimpse of in Coast City doesn’t do his son justice. His coloring is Slade’s, his skin showing the signs of a recent tan. His hair hangs down almost to his green eyes. The military man in Slade immediately wants to cut it. 

It’s been years since he’s heard Joseph play. His son has always been gifted, since the moment he sat down at a piano. Since the age of four, Joseph gobbled up whatever music he could get his hands on, picked up instrument after instrument. He’d always favored the piano, but Slade will never forget the hauntingly beautiful violin serenade Joseph played the night before he left for that God-forsaken mission to Lian Yu. 

Music floats through the room, a blend of sonorous music and emotion. It’s as if Joe pours his whole self into each note. The music draws Slade in, pulls him into memories of Australia,  into those moments when he would walk home to music and laughter. 

It reminds him of home. 

… 

Classical music has never held any appeal for Evelyn. She’s always preferred something with words,  usually angry and always loud. She liked the kind of music that deafened kids, the kind that rocked cars and pounded in your eardrums. 

Her aunt tried to hand her a violin once. She fumbled along playing it for about a year when she was eight. When she was ten, she smashed it against their driveway. It was the most satisfying sound the violin had ever made. 

As for Joseph, she’s sure the music sounded as fantastic as all the suits and dresses make it out to be, but she’s equally as sure that less than half of them know what they’re talking about. Mrs. Teal Nightmare keeps cooing over Joseph, but Evie saw her snoring halfway through the second act. Mr. Cheap Cologne is trying to sound posh by saying how he heard a better rendition a couple months ago in Italy. 

Evelyn eyes the nearest tray of champagne. With Slade searching for his son backstage, she might be able to sneak some. With this get up, she could definitely pass for 21, not that anyone’s checking IDs. 

A shadow appears at Evelyn’s elbow. A quick glance in her periphery confirms that this suit is attached to a man.

“Get lost,” Evelyn replies without looking at the man who joined her. She may be mingling with the rich of Starling because Slade wants to talk to his son, but that’s as far as this goes. She’s out of this city at the next change. “I’m not interested.” 

He taps her arm and Evelyn rips it away, turning toward him with indignation. 

The words catch in her throat as she recognizes the green eyes of the man on stage,  the one Slade’s chased around the world. She doesn’t know how to react. “You’re-” 

He nods with a smile. 

She glances around for Slade before turning back to the star of the show tonight. “Nice...playing…” Yeah, she sucks at small talk… “Where’d you learn piano?”

His hands move then, in rapid motions that she realizes with startling clarity is American Sign Language. She learned the alphabet in Girl Scouts eons ago, a few choice curse words along the way, and a couple key phrases from a deaf foster brother before he was adopted by a deaf family. Not nearly enough to understand the rapid motions. 

She frowns as another thought hits her. “If you’re deaf, how are you a musician?” 

He shakes his head and pulls down the collar of his dress shirt to reveal a gnarly scar across his neck. 

Evie nods. Scars. She can understand those. He’s been through something traumatic, something that changed his life completely. She catches the next couple signs: hearing, not deaf. Even if she didn’t know those, she knows the placement of that scar. His voice box was damaged. “I’ve got some nasty scars too,” Evie says as a peace offering. “I keep mine covered too.” 

He signs something slowly and this time she understands. He’s asking about Slade. Personally, she likes that covers his eye in an eyepatch.

“Oh, yeah, um...he’s around here somewhere. He’s looking for you, actually.” She spins around in search of Slade,  but Joseph’s hand lands on her arm and continues to sign once she looks at him, getting more and more frustrated as Evie continues to not understand. 

“Look, it’s been years since I learned any ASL and even then…” 

Joseph sighs and starts signing slowly, spelling when her confusion shows and forming each letter deliberately. 

“The man...looks like...a person...know? Looks like a person you know...used to know.” Evie finishes, looking to Joseph for quick verification. He nods. She glances around again for Slade. This introduction shouldn’t come from her. “He should really talk to you himself. He went backstage to find you.” She reaches for his arm, keeping her grip loose so he could pull away if he wants. 

They reach the door as it opens and Slade steps out. Evie stops as they make eye contact over  her head. Both men stare at each other in identical expressions of shock. An earthquake wouldn’t be able to shake them out of this. Which is kind of funny considering what this event is supposed to be raising money for, Evelyn muses as she slips away, grabbing herself a glass of champagne and slipping across the room to watch from a distance as father and son reunite, giving them some privacy.

They embrace and a bittersweet feeling embraces her in a hug. She’s never going to have that kind of reunion. The people who raised her are dead. Her mother, her father: dead. But she also doesn’t need it. She’s found her family, found it with Slade. She hopes that family might include Joseph, but even if it doesn’t, she’s found a home with Slade. 

Evie grins in happiness: she’s found home. 

… 

_ Joseph.  _

_ Joe.  _

_ Joe Wilson.  _

_ His son.  _

Slade can’t stop touching him, as if the contact will make this whole situation more real somehow. A hug, his cheek, an arm. Joseph is no better, his eyes roving over Slade even as they sit facing each other. They’ve moved from the ostentatious party to something a little more lowkey. 

Evie sits beside him, stabbing the penne invading her plate with vicious accuracy. Joseph sits across from him. The grin of their original meeting has been replaced with a more focused, scrutinizing gaze. Upon closer scrutiny, Slade can’t help but see more of his late wife’s features in his son’s face. Those damned eyes are hers, just as piercing, just as fierce as the last time he saw his wife. 

“So…” Slade starts and stops as soon as the words leave his lips. He doesn’t know how to engage in this conversation. His eyes slip to the man sitting across from Evelyn, next to his son. He’s already forgotten the man’s name. 

It had been a shock, learning that his son couldn’t speak, that he had an assistant - a  _ translator _ \- that could speak for him. It was painful, to know that something had happened to his son, that he hadn’t been there for him in that time of need. He’d have to start learning sign language as soon as possible. He wasn’t going to have conversations with his son through a surrogate. 

Joseph’s hands move gracefully through a sentence. At his side, Evelyn snorts and shakes her head. The translator leans forward. 

“He says you can ask him whatever you like,” he says in a soft tone with a bright smile. He’s being nice, sympathetic. 

Slade runs a hand over  his jaw. “I’ll be honest, son. I don’t know how to have this conversation.” 

He signs something else. 

“Why don’t we start with something simple?” The translator asks. Joe points to Evelyn. 

“Evelyn Sharp,” she supplies. “International assassin.” Her smirk belies her words so the translator just seems amused. Joe takes her words more seriously and glances at Slade before looking back at her. 

“Evie’s mom was a friend of mine.” Slade shoots her a look that will hopefully calm her down. “I  met her and started training her about five, six years ago. When her mom died,  she came and found me.” 

“You seem close.” The translator glances between them and Joe nods in agreement. 

“She saved my life,” Slade says simply. It really is that simple. It might not have been so much a physical threat that she saved him from as much as she helped direct and guide him down a path of redemption by forcing him to be a good role model to a rogue assassin. 

Evelyn laughs at that, dropping her fork into her bowl with a clatter.  “Don’t let him fool you. He was the one with all the saving-lives heroics. I’m no hero.” 

Joseph signs something and she smiles. 

“Evelyn the Assassin.” She mimics his hands. Joe grins at her. 

It takes Slade a moment, but then he figures it out. Evie knows what he said. She shrugs under his scrutiny. 

“I had a foster brother. He was only with us for a couple months, but I picked up some stuff. He was really into this show about spies. Don’t remember what it was called, but assassin was one word I picked up.” She takes a sip of her water with a pleased smile. 

“So you know about where I’ve been?” Slade asks vaguely. He hadn’t planned to broach the subject,  not with whoever the interpreter here. 

Joseph nods. “ASIS, told me,” Translator says, face scrunching in confusion for a moment. “They said you were infected, sick. That there was no cure and it was better if I was relocated for my safety.” 

Makes sense. “And...what happened…” He can’t even finish the sentence, not sure how to ask about how his son lost the ability to speak. 

Joe glances at his interpreter before starting. 

“It wasn’t long after...Mom died. I was staying with Uncle Chris when someone came looking for you. They thought they could get to you through me.” The interpreter pauses there. Joseph’s hands move slowly, a slight tremor in them. The man shifts in his seat, unsure as he looks around at the faces gathered around the table. 

“Was it ASIS?” Slade asks, hands curled into fists around his cutlery. He needs to know if he has to go back there and face the Australian government. He’s left most of his revenge behind him,  but if they did this…

He doesn’t need the interpreter to understand the response. 

His question and the answer jolt the translator back into action. “No. They got me out, but the men were angry when they couldn’t reach you. One of them decided to use me to send a message.” 

He pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal mangled skin. The interpreter pales at the sight and shifts uneasily. Slade waits for the irrational anger to surge, the parasite that was nearly his death under the Mirakuru. It doesn’t come. Instead, it was a deep sorrow, a harrowing grief that he wasn’t there to save his son. 

Joe releases the collar and grads Slade’s hand instead. He doesn’t offer a reassuring smile, just  signs something with one hand. When the interpreter doesn’t continue, he turns to Evie. 

She moves closer. “He says, he’s okay. Tough...It was tough for awhile...but he’s good now. He had a good family.” 

Slade smiles as tears gather in his one good eye. “I’m glad. And you, my boy...you’ve done so well. Juliard. Benefit concerts. I heard you play today and it took my breath away.” 

Joseph grins. 

Evelyn and the interpreter speak at the same time: “You should see me fight.” 

The man - interloper more than translator - looks miffed, but Evie smirks, proud of her correct translation. The rest of Joe’s signs prove too much for her to handle so the interpreter picks it back up. 

“I didn’t forget how you trained me. I kept up with those classes.” 

Slade chuckles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

There’s a lull, a pause between them where Evelyn reaches over and steals another breadstick from the basket in the middle of the table. 

“So what now?” Joseph asks through the interpreter. “You’ve found me. I want you in my life, if you want to be. You and Evelyn.” 

“That’s all I want,” Slade confesses, glancing at Evie. 

“Well, I’m in residence in Star City for the next year.” 

Slade shifts. That might not be for the best, not considering the family Evie’s trying to avoid. 

She meets his eyes, the brown in hers ponderous. With a shrug, she takes another bite of her bread stick. “Well, you want me to be good...I guess now’s as good a time as any to make amends.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Evelyn shrugs. “They’re family, right?” 

Slade nods. “Right.” 

“How bad could it be?” 

She gets her answer a week later.


End file.
